A Decade-Long Tale
Zachary had little luck in marriage. At thirty, he parted ways with his wife after three years together.
“At least we never had children,” hed tell his colleagues at work. “It wouldve been a shame to leave them behind.”
Hed misjudged Theresa. Shed wanted no part of family lifejust nights out with friends, laughter, and crowds. Hed fallen for her lively spirit, only to realise too late she was too sharp-tongued and restless for him.
“Zachary, we need you in Cliffside,” the chief engineer told him one day. “The village is fifty miles from the citytheir equipment needs fixing. A month, perhaps less, depending on how quickly you manage. Now that youre a free man, no family to tie you down, this is your chance.” He smirked.
Zachary didnt mind the change. Hed never been to Cliffside before, and the thought of a fresh scene appealed to him. When he arrived, they offered him a choice:
“You can stay in the workers dormitory, though its under repair, or we can arrange a cottage near the substation where youll be working.”
“No, I cant stand renovations,” Zachary laughed. “Better to board with a localmaybe the landlady will feed me well. Im a bachelor, after all.”
They settled him in a small house with a widow named Eleanor. She was a stern woman, slow to conversation, always dressed in black from neck to toe, her hair hidden beneath a scarf. Yet there was a quiet energy about her. At first, Zachary had mistaken her for an older womanuntil he noticed the swiftness of her movements.
They lived quietly, speaking little, but Eleanor cooked splendidly. Hed arranged meals with herbetter than the canteen, and what did it matter who he paid?
“Listen, Sam,” he asked his workmate one day, “Eleanors not old, but she dresses like a mourner. I thought she might be devout, but Ive never seen her pray.”
“Eleanor?” Sam chuckled. “Havent you seen her without the scarf?”
“No, shes always covered by the time I see her in the morning. But she feeds me wellbreakfast, dinner, supper. Never a word wasted.”
“Thats what matters, Zachary. A mans happiest when hes well-fed. My Alice scolds me if I come home tipsy, but she always feeds me after. Stands over me grumbling, but its just for show. I know her ways.” Sams eyes warmed at the mention of his wife.
“True enough, Sam,” Zachary agreed. “We men do appreciate a good meal.”
After a pause, he asked, “Whyd you ask if Id seen her without the scarf?”
“Oh, nothing much. Shes got lovely hair, thats all. Hides it away. Shes still young, but shes dressed herself like an old woman.”
“Why?”
“Grief, thats why. She and Michael were sweetheartseveryone envied them. He cherished her. I was at their weddinghe was my cousins boy, though we were close as brothers. A fine pair they made. But theyd only been married a month when he drove home one spring evening. The river was still frozen, and he took the shortcut across the ice. The car broke through. They found him downstream come thaw.”
Zachary whistled low.
“Aye,” Sam sighed. “The bridge wouldve added five miles. But he rushed it. Eleanors been a widow since. Shes only eight-and-twenty now.”
The story weighed on Zachary. Poor Eleanoronly a month of marriage before tragedy. Returning home that evening, lost in thought, he stepped insideand froze.
Eleanor stood with her back to him, brushing out long, dark waves of hair. The door creaked, and she turned. Zacharys breath caught. Before him was a beauty, her face framed by thick, cascading locks.
“Oh!” She startled, twisting her hair into a bun and covering it hastily with the scarf.
“Eleanor,” Zachary murmured, “why hide such beauty? And youre so young. I thoughtbut its just the way you dress.”
“I made a promise,” she said softly, then retreated to the kitchen.
From then on, Eleanor grew even more reserved. Zachary, restless, longed to draw her out.
Then, one evening, he returned with a great handful of wild daisies, plucked from the roadside. Seeing her in the yard, he held them out.
“For you. Dont refusetodays my birthday.”
A faint smile touched her lips. “You shouldve told me. Id have baked a cake.”
“Not needed.” He pulled a shop-bought cake, a bottle of wine, and chocolates from his bag. “Lets celebrate.”
She set the table; he poured the wine. Eleanor sipped once, then set her glass aside.
“I dont drink. But happy birthday, Zachary.”
“Eleanor,” he ventured, “tell me about Michael. Ive heard a little. Speaking of it might ease your heart.”
She was silent, so he spoke instead.
“I wasnt always fortunate either. Fell ill after my army service. Long recovery. Then I marriedthought it was forever. But Theresa and I wanted different things. No children, no family life. We parted.”
Eleanor listened, then, haltingly, shared her own tale.
“I still love Michael. Fate gave him to me, then took him just as swiftly. I barely had time to be his wife before grief swallowed me whole. At his grave, I promised to live only in memory of him.”
Zachary leaned forward. “Memory matters, Eleanor. But weve only one life to live.”
She nodded. “I know. But I cant break my promise. Youre a good man, Zachary. Youll find happiness yet.”
Days later, his work finished, Zachary left Cliffside. His heart was heavy. Eleanor had offered no hope, only a quiet, “Goodbye, Zachary. Be happy.”
Ten years passed. Zachary never married. Then, driving home from holiday, he saw the sign for Cliffside.
“Should I stop?” he wonderedeven as he turned the wheel.
The village had changed. The road to Eleanors house was paved now. He parked outside, heart pounding. A new fence stood where the old one had been.
“Maybe shes gone,” he thought.
He lingered, uncertain, until a voice spoke behind him.
“Looking for someone?”
He turned. There she stoodmore beautiful than ever, her hair free, her eyes knowing.
“Zachary,” she said, smiling. “The man who told me life is given only once. Come in. Ive just made tea.”
He followed, wondering.
“I couldnt pass by,” he admitted. “Ive always remembered you. They say whats lost to fate may yet be found. Lets not waste our chance.”
They married five years later. Eleanor moved to the city with him. Now she stays home, raising their daughtera girl with her mothers dark, lovely waves. Happiness, at last, fills their house.
